Starting Again
by xeyes
Summary: Post SH4. Eileen and Henry start to rebuild their lives in the wake of Walter Sullivan's destruction. Adult nonsexual themes, a little angst, and a lot of good food. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Henry, Eileen and the rest are completely and utterly not mine. They're Konami's. I'm just taking them out of the drawer for an outing. **

* * *

"Guess I'm going to have to find another place to live, huh?" 

Eileen smiled up at her visitor. Henry stood awkwardly, as if about to turn tail and flee. But she didn't miss the small smile that crossed his lips.

She buried her nose in the flowers that he'd brought her, and inhaled deeply. The scent was fresh and clean, so different from the smell of...

She reached for the call button by her bed. Henry's eyes followed her movement.

"Miss Galvin?"

"Nurse Rachel, I'm sorry to bother you with this..." Eileen held up the flowers. "Do you have a vase for these?"

The nurse laughed. "No problem. We've got more than I can count. Be right back."

As the door closed behind her, Henry turned to Eileen with a slight frown.

"I could have gotten that for you. No need to bother the nurse."

Eileen smiled at him.

"It's OK. She's great, she doesn't mind. Plus, it will give her something to talk about with the other nurses on duty until they have to check on me again. Guess I'll be grilled about you after you leave."

Henry's eyebrow went up. Eileen laughed.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't really know what to tell her." She nodded at the single chair in the room. "Anyway, I wanted to keep you here with me."

Henry's look changed to a slight puzzlement, and he sat, elbows on knees, looking absently at a point a few inches south of her chin.

She'd never been this forward with a guy before...what had gotten into her? Maybe being protected from certain death for several hours by a man who'd faced down indescribable horrors to save her life. That was new.

"Um, up here," she said gently.

His eyes jerked upward. "I...uh...I wasn't..."

"I know."

A moment.

"What happened to..."

"What happened to what?" She immediately regretted teasing him. He squirmed.

"Um...you look much better."

"Well, either this place works miracles, or it all went away after...afterward. They're just keeping me here for observation. I should be able to leave later today."

He nodded, then a little more silence. She noticed a slight bulk on his arm, under his shirt. A bandage?

"You're not in great shape either," she said.

He looked down at the arm. "Nothing serious."

Nurse Rachel came back with the flowers in a cut-glass vase. She walked over to the window and placed them on the sill. She looked from Eileen to Henry and back again, smiled at Eileen, and left.

"What about you?" Eileen asked.

"What?"

"You're going to have to move, too, right?"

Henry sat up and scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "The place is probably OK now, but I don't think I'm going to stay."

She nodded. "Me neither. I liked it, but ... Know of any apartments around here?"

"A few decent ones."

"You mean, that aren't haunted and full of two-headed babies and dead serial killers?"

"That's a minimum requirement."

Eileen laughed, and Henry gave a shy grin.

You know, Eileen thought, I could get to like this guy.

Hell, I already like him.

"Tell you what," she said to him. "Later today, after I get out of here, let's go get our stuff and get a hotel room."

His eyes opened very wide. Oh...

"No, uh, not like that," she stammered. "It's just that...well, I don't know about you, but I don't have anywhere else to go. We're both going to have to find new apartments."

Henry nodded. "I don't have a lot of stuff...just a few personal things and my photographs."

"Same here," Eileen replied. "It won't take me long to pack. I should be able to fit most of it into my car."

"I have a truck with a cap," Henry added. "Should be enough space for both of us."

"Good!" Eileen smiled. Some good, honest, physical packing was oddly appealing.

Henry stared out of the window.

It felt good to have something to look forward to. She remembered the hours of limping around in those damn heels, cold and hurt, trying to move as fast as she could so she didn't slow down Henry too much, her back feeling like it was full of worms crawling under her skin, while Henry shot and slashed and bashed and led her past all of it. She remembered him keeping her behind him as he battled for their lives every foot of the way, then fighting like a madman as she felt herself pulled toward the spinning blades...

Eileen's hands lifted and reached toward him, and he stood and crossed the room. She grasped both of his hands.

"Henry," she started. "I..."

He waited.

"I don't know what to say, except...thank you."

She looked into his face. Green eyes, she noted. Soft and caring. She stopped short at the concern in his gaze. So that's what's been hiding under all that hair.

"My pleasure," he said simply.

* * *

When Henry returned some hours later, Eileen was sitting, looking out of her window. She smiled at him, and motioned him over. 

"Henry..." she said, pointing out the window. "By the front. What's going on?"

"Hmph," he replied. "Damn reporters. They're at the apartment, too."

"They're here for us?"

Henry nodded.

"Guess an apartment building full of bloody monsters and hauntings is front-page news," Eileen said. "Even around here."

"I parked around the back," Henry said. "There's nobody there."

"I'm ready. Let's go."

They exited the room in silence. As they walked down the hall, her mind wandered. Finally. I'm out of there, in one piece. It's over.

She felt rested, relaxed, better than she'd felt in days, as if none of that had happened. But the presence of the man at her side reminded her that it hadn't all been a dream.

Finally...finally what? What happens now?

As she walked through the sliding glass doors, with Henry's flowers in her hand, a cool breeze raised goose flesh on her bare skin. Fall was on its way...and all she had on was her tank top and skirt. Damn. She really needed to bring along a jacket once in a while...

Before she could shiver, she felt something placed around her shoulders. She smiled thankfully at Henry, and automatically looked down. It was the same shirt that he'd been wearing during their trip through hell. She recognized the little pockets, and she smelled his scent on it.

"Sorry. It's all I had except for this," he said, looking down at his fresh T-shirt and jeans.

"It's OK. I'm lazy about my laundry too," she replied.

"I had a load running, but...there were problems."

"Heh. I bet."

He led her over to a big gray long-bed truck with an old metal cap on top.

"Here we are."

He reached in, threw some stuff into the back seat, and helped her into the passenger seat. As she fastened the seat belt, she saw that the interior was clean and tidy. Hmmm...not typical guy behavior. Why should I be surprised, she wondered, I barely know this guy...good to see that he takes care of things, though.

I shouldn't be surprised at all...he took care of me. And I do know him, in a way.

Henry got in on the driver's side, and the truck roared into life.

"Nice truck," she smiled at him.

"It runs," he replied. He shifted gears, and they were off.

The hospital was about fifteen minutes' drive from South Ashfield Heights. They rolled along in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Henry spoke.

"I've finished packing my stuff...it's all in my apartment. I've also gotten us a couple of rooms at the motor inn down the road."

"Sounds good," she replied. "I hate to ask, but would you mind..."

He nodded. "We should be able to get you packed. I have some boxes ready."

A pause.

"There are more reporters at the apartment. We can't avoid them there."

"I know. Damn place only has one exit."

"The police are there, too. They want to ask you some questions."

"I guess I don't have much choice."

"No," Henry replied, as the truck turned a corner. "I asked if it was really necessary, but they said they want to hear your side of the story. I've already told them everything. They insisted."

"Well, I guess it was unavoidable," Eileen said. "I'll just get it over with, and we can get the hell out of there."

A few moments.

"What do you do, anyway?" Eileen asked.

"I...uh...I'm a freelance photographer," he said.

"What do you photograph?"

"Buildings, scenery...that sort of thing."

"Would you show me some of your pictures sometime?"

He turned to look at her for a moment, then back to the road. "Yeah, OK." He smiled a little. "What do you do?"

"I'm kinda between jobs these days," Eileen said. "I have my degree in ancient European languages, and I'm hoping to teach someday, but for now I'm trying to save up for grad school."

Henry nodded. "That's why you could read that writing by the orphanage?"

Eileen just stared at him, amazed that he could bring up their...experience so casually. She'd expected him to clam up and dance around it...but there it was.

"Uh...yeah. Actually, I wish I could have written it down...it was a script that I hadn't seen before, but it had enough similarities to a few things I do know that it wasn't hard for me to read."

Henry smiled. "That was pretty impressive."

"Impressive? Hey, you're the one who saved both our skins. You got me out of that place. All I could do was just hobble around behind you and swat at things." She looked out of the window. "I felt so useless."

"You weren't."

"Well, I felt like it."

They drove the last few minutes in silence.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

South Ashfield Heights looked absolutely normal from the outside. There was no sign of the blood and the rust and the monsters...and no Walter. Eileen felt a little deflated. What had she been expecting...a bloody, rusty, gore-covered shell? Maybe.

Normal, that is, except for the mob of reporters milling around the front door. As Henry pulled into the lot, they ran toward the truck and surrounded it like a swarm of bees.

"There they are!"

"Eileen! Over here!"

"Were you really going to be one of Sullivan's sacrifices?"

"Are the numbers still on your back? Can we see them?"

She shrank toward Henry, who put an arm around her and pulled her forward.

"Let us through, please," he said loudly, pushing them both through the crowd.

"Henry! What was it like, that other dimension or whatever it was?"

"All that time, you really didn't know his body was behind the wall?"

"Tell us about the monsters!"

He ignored them, and they made it to the door.

...And it looks just as normal from the inside, she thought. She stopped short of the stairs. Henry nearly ran into her from behind.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just that..."

"I know," he said. "It's weird."

She nodded.

"Miss Galvin? Mr. Townshend?"

A tall man in a long, dark coat was approaching. Eileen shrank back.

"It's OK," Henry whispered. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Ah. Sorry," the man said, and removed his coat. "Henry told us all about him...I should have remembered." He extended his hand. "I'm Detective John Orosco. I just have a few questions for you."

"Is this really necessary?" Henry asked. "Eileen's been through a lot. We just want to get our things and get out of this place."

"I understand, and I'm sorry, but it is necessary," the detective replied. He smiled at Eileen. "Henry has spent the last few hours telling us what happened to you two and to the rest of Walter's victims. We just need to hear a few things from you, and then you're both free to go."

"It's OK, Henry," she said. "He's got to do his job."

Henry turned to her and nodded. "Detective, I'd like to stay with her, if that's allowed."

"That's fine, Mr. Townshend."

He led them down the hall to Frank Sunderland's apartment. They sat in chairs in the super's front room. A slight hint of the stench from the old box with its grotesque contents still lingered, Eileen thought...or was it her imagination?

She felt as if she couldn't trust her own senses any more.

"Do you need anything, Miss Galvin?" Detective Orosco asked, nodding toward a younger officer standing at the door.

"No, I'm fine," Eileen replied. "I'd just like to get this over with, if that's OK."

"OK. Let's start at the beginning."

"Can I ask you something first?"

"Of course, Miss Galvin."

"Call me Eileen."

Detective Orosco smiled. "All right, Eileen."

"All of this...this must sound pretty crazy to you," she said. "The monsters, the ghosts, the weird holes...but, you're acting like this is just some robbery or something." She leaned back in her chair, and looked at the detective critically. "I want you to know that we're telling the truth. I don't know if you believe it, but it's really what happened."

"Don't worry, Eileen," he replied. "I actually do believe what I'm hearing."

"Pardon my asking...but why? It must sound pretty farfetched."

Detective Orosco smiled reassuringly. "That's why I'm here. They call me in when weird things happen, and I get called a lot, especially to...other towns around here." It was his turn to sit back in his chair. "I have a personal interest in the paranormal. Years ago, my father died and my sister ran away. We never saw her again. Nobody ever found out what happened to her. But we found out where she'd gone...strange things happen there, Eileen, very strange things. They're undeniable. What Henry has told us agrees with other information we have about the Sullivan case and other related events, so, strange or not, things fit in. That's why we want to talk to you, to fill in a few holes."

Eileen nodded. "Thanks. I had to ask."

"No problem. Are you ready to start?"

"Yes."

"OK. When did you first suspect something was wrong with Room 302?"

Eileen took a breath, then began. "I hadn't seen Henry for a few days, but I didn't think that something was seriously wrong until I was walking down the hallway yesterday."

"What aroused your suspicions?"

"I had picked up a few things from the grocery store before getting ready for a party, and I dropped the bag in the hallway outside Room 302. As I was cleaning up the mess, I passed by Henry's door and heard some strange noises..."

She glanced at Henry, who was staring at her intently...protectively. He wants to make sure I'm alright, she realized. It's going to be OK.

"Eileen?"

Eileen turned back to the detective. "Sorry," she said. She sat up in her chair. "I asked Frank Sunderland about Room 302, and he told me the strangest things..."

* * *

Half an hour later, Henry and Eileen walked up the stairs to the third floor. 

"Thank God that's over," she said, as they walked down the silent hallway. They had passed police on their way up, but none were in their hallway just then. "I didn't expect them to believe me, but Detective Orosco seems to."

"I doubt that they're going to come up with a better explanation," he replied.

Eileen unlocked the door to her apartment, and they entered it. The dark smears of her blood were still on the floor and walls, and she could see footsteps both large and small through it. The police...the EMTs...Henry's? Walter's? Little Walter's? So much had happened in her room, a lifetime ago...

Suddenly, she felt tired. Her head swam, and she wobbled. Henry steered her toward a chair by the window, and cleared a small package from it before helping her into it. He opened the window, and a fresh afternoon breeze blew in.

"Are you OK? Do you need to lie down?"

"No. I'll be fine. Thanks."

"I have to go get those boxes," Henry said. "Are you OK for a moment?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll go get started."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I just want to get out of here." She stood up, walked back to her bedroom, pulled her suitcase out from under the bed, and started packing her clothes.

* * *

A few hours later, her things were packed and in the back of Henry's truck. They stood in Eileen's apartment as she looked around one last time. 

"Too bad," she said. "I liked it here. At least, until yesterday."

They exited the apartment, then walked next door.

Henry showed her in, and her eyes grew very wide.

"No wonder you couldn't get out," she said, as her fingers traced the chains hanging loose just inside the door. "If only we had heard you..."

"I don't think you could have," he said. "Walter made sure of that."

She walked further into the room. The apartment was bare. Henry wasn't kidding, she thought...his stack of boxes seemed very small. Several pictures in frames leaned against the stack. She turned to look down the hallway.

"You don't want to go in there," he said, but she was already striding down the hall. She bent to enter the hole. He moved quickly to her side and caught her arm.

She started and hit her head against the top of the hole. "Ow!"

"Sorry."

Eileen stood back up and rubbed her head. "What was that for?"

Henry's look was serious. "Walter...he's in there. Or he was...I don't know if he is now."

At that moment, the smell from the room reached her nostrils. She gagged.

"Ugh...," she said, looking at him questioningly. He nodded.

"Well, I'm going in anyway. He put us through enough...I want to see the bastard's face. His real face."

Henry followed her through the hole.

"He's back."

"Dead, at least. What the hell..."

"I'll tell you about it later."

"Thanks."

They left the little room. Henry opened the bathroom door. Eileen put her head in.

"Is that the hole?"

"Yeah."

He was silent for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was low.

"The first one. Before I found you in the hospital, I went through all those places and saw more of his...sacraments...die. After I got back the last time, the hole was blocked up."

Henry opened the door to his bedroom and Eileen followed him in. The bed was stripped and the walls were bare.

"When I came back through the holes, I woke up here. At first, after...I went through the subway, I thought it was all just a really bad dream...but then I heard the ambulance sirens and realized it wasn't..." He took a short, ragged breath. "Each one...I saw them die...and I woke up here..."

He glanced around the room with a dazed look. She put her hand on his shoulder. He breathed deeply and met her gaze, and she saw the struggle for control in his eyes as he turned to the door.

They went back down the hallway.

"What the..." she said, looking at the hole in the wall by his kitchen.

"Uh, nothing," he said, and opened the door to the laundry room.

"This is the second hole," he said. "When I left you, I came back through this. Those four placards, there...I found one in each place I went the first time through, one for each time he killed somebody. They opened it. I could hear sobbing and crying through the hole...sometimes I thought it might be you."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"I'm so sorry," she finally said.

"It's OK," he said.

Time passed.

"I see what you meant about the laundry," she said. "Shot to hell."

"Yeah," he said. "My lucky shirt was in that load."

"Guess you'll need a new lucky shirt."

He smiled his small smile at her. "You're wearing it."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Eileen's hatchback was still in the parking lot. The reporters had gone, and she idly wondered who'd gotten rid of them.

She followed Henry's truck to the motor inn. He'd gotten two rooms around the back of the inn, at the end of the row. They parked outside their rooms, and stacked their boxes inside. Eileen insisted on helping unload things, despite Henry's protests.

"OK then," Eileen said, putting down the last of her boxes. "Let's get something to eat. Don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Sounds good," Henry said. He stood up and stretched.

He's taller than I thought, she thought. He slouches a little when he's not carrying a weapon.

Henry held out something to her.

"A second key for my room. Just in case."

Eileen took the key and placed it on the TV. "Thanks. I'll get one for you, too."

"What do you want for dinner?"

She started unpacking her toiletries. "Well, that Italian place down the road does a great lasagna."

"Their garlic bows are pretty good, too."

Eileen laughed. "Didn't have you pegged as a garlic-bow type."

Henry's face fell. She put down the bottle of shampoo in her hand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything."

"Actually, I love them."

"Me too. I can't cook at all, so I get them a couple of times a week. At least," she said, I used to."

"I can't cook either. Wish I could have...I would have had something to eat while I was stuck in my room. At the end, all I was left with was some old wine and a bottle of chocolate milk, and I had to give that to Jasper."

Weird, she thought, to hear him talk about himself. He didn't seem like a talker. But she'd been pretty wrong about him so far.

"We should get cleaned up before we starve," she said.

"I showered at the hospital this morning, so I'm OK," Henry said. "Anyway, I haven't got any cleaner clothes."

Eileen found herself walking over to Henry, right up to him. He stepped back, startled, as she took a deep whiff.

"You smell just fine," she smiled. "But I'm a mess. We can keep talking while I shower."

She ignored Henry's obvious discomfort and took her things into the bathroom, and after a minute the shower went on.

"What else do you like to eat?" she yelled over the shower noise.

"What do you mean?"

"Mmph."

"Sorry."

"You know. What types of food do you get when you go out to eat?"

"I don't eat out much, except when I'm out working."

"Frozen meals, then?"

"Yeah, and cans and pasta."

"Me too. French bread pizza can be a wonderful thing."

"With garlic."

"Definitely with garlic."

"To answer your question, uh...pizza, Chinese, the usual, I guess."

"Not very adventurous?"

"Not a lot of options."

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Ashfield's not known for its international cuisine."

She burst out laughing as she finished rinsing her hair. "No kidding. Ever tried sushi?"

"Yeah. I didn't like the fish."

"I know this great place that does sushi and tempura. I'll take you there tomorrow might. Lots of non-fish stuff. Best I've ever had." She stuck her hand out of the door. "Hand me those clothes on the end of the bed, will you?"

* * *

An hour later, Eileen sat on the bed in Henry's room, cross-legged, with a big plate of lasagna, stuffing herself. Man, she was hungry. She hadn't had a proper meal since all hell broke loose, and the hospital food hadn't been very satisfying. 

Hence, the Italian food. Nothing else soothed a wounded soul like lots and lots and lots of really yummy, tomato-y pasta.

But if she thought she was hungry, it was nothing compared to how starved Henry must have been. He'd already finished off an entire order of ravioli, a side salad, and half of the garlic bows, and was sitting on the floor, plowing through some of Luigi's best tomato-and-basil tortellini like it was going out of style.

Then again, he hadn't eaten properly in days, so no wonder he was hungry. Still, who'd have thought that a slim guy like him could put that much food away?

She watched him eat out of the corner of her eye. He impaled one piece at a time on his fork, and chewed each one deliberately. It wasn't that he was shoveling it in...he was just eating steadily with no sign of stopping any time soon. He paid no attention to the flickering TV in front of them. Spear...chew...spear...chew...spear...chew...the rhythm was soothing.

Eileen put her plate down and plopped down on the bed facing Henry.

"Willing to spare one of those?" she smiled. She wiggled her plastic fork at him.

Henry speared three tortellini on his fork and slowly rolled them around in the sauce and cheese. Suddenly, he leaned toward her and lifted the fork to her mouth. Surprised, she opened her mouth, and he delicately pushed the tortellini past her lips. She closed her mouth, and he pulled out the fork.

He speared a few more for himself, and they chewed together in silence.

"More than one?" she smiled.

Under his hair, his eyes smiled back. "It's more decadent to have several at once."

"We could use a little decadence," she ventured.

He said nothing.

"Want some of my lasagna?" she asked. For the first time that day, he grinned. She handed him the dish...and he froze.

"What?" She followed his gaze to the TV, where the nightly news was showing...

"That's us!" The footage showed the two of them moving through the crowd of reporters outside South Ashfield Heights that afternoon. Henry had his arm around her shoulders, and was fending off microphones with his other arm as they moved steadily forward.

He reached across her to turn up the sound.

"...Townshend and Eileen Galvin, two survivors of the horror that engulfed this quiet local apartment building yesterday." The scene shifted to show the program's top local reporter, standing in front of their former home.

"Details are sketchy, but it seems that the strange happenings may have been connected with the Sullivan murders from years ago. The police aren't talking, and neither Miss Galvin nor Mr. Townshend has spoken to the press since their release from the hospital earlier today. Rumor has it, though, that the superintendent of the building, Frank Sunderland, has not been seen since last night. Coincidentally, Frank Sunderland is the father of James Sunderland, who himself disappeared with his wife years ago."

Henry turned away from the TV, but Eileen was transfixed.

"Strange events, Susan."

"Very strange, Jack. We'll keep you updated as the story evolves."

"Thanks, Susan. In other news, the man arrested for urinating off of a pole two days ago is due in court tomorrow..."

Eileen turned off the TV.

* * *

That night, Eileen slept the sleep of the tired and well-fed. 

After a while, she dreamt of strange things...things that floated and crawled and ran, that cried and moaned and slurped and came after her and surrounded her and crawled up her legs and all she could do was swat at them with her nightstick and whack them with the cast on her arm, because she was alone and he was gone...gone...Henry was gone...

Then, she heard footsteps. Henry! No, not Henry...the monsters parted. Walter! He had a large knife in his hand, and his eyes had a predatory look. He was coming for her. Henry, where are you?...Henry! Come back!...Henry!

One of the creatures had grabbed her and was shaking her so hard that she thought her neck would snap in two. She kicked and swung her nightstick at it. It was futile. There was no escape. Henry was gone. Might as well go down fighting...

It was calling her name. How did it know her name?

"Eileen! Eileen..."

Then, she was in a dark room, and it wasn't a creature shaking her. It was a person.

Her eyes focused on the face in front of her. It was Henry. He was in a T-shirt and boxers, and was sitting on the edge of her bed, shaking her shoulders lightly. Her arms and legs were flailing around.

"Eileen...come on...wake up..."

"Henry? What..."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're in the motel, in your room. You were having a bad dream."

Then she remembered.

"There were monsters...all around me. They were going to kill me. I was alone. I couldn't find you anywhere."

Henry sat back, frowning. He stood quickly and walked away from her, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry," he said flatly.

"It's OK," she replied.

"No, it's not." He turned back to her, and she saw that his teeth were clenched as well. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You nearly died in your room. You were too hurt to defend yourself. I shouldn't have left you alone in there. I should have stayed with you."

"If you had, we'd both be dead," she replied firmly. "You needed to go back to your room, and you never left me alone before making sure I was safe. I was fine. The dream is my own problem."

He sat on the edge of the bed, head down, and she reached for his hands.

"I was fine, really. You made sure of that. Right up to the end."

He raised his head, and she smiled at him. He took a breath.

"You're really OK?"

"Yes," she said.

"If it's alright with you," he said, "I'd like to keep an eye on you to make sure."

"You don't need to. Walter's gone, and dreams can't hurt me."

"Please," he said. "I'll leave if you want. But I want to make sure. For myself."

She was taken aback by this, and nodded. He went to the door and checked its lock, then moved stacks of boxes in front of it. Then, he took something from the chest of drawers in the room, and walked to the bathroom. She heard water running.

He came back to her, and handed her a glass of water. She drank it gratefully.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine, really," she said.

He nodded, and went to pull a blanket from the closet. He wrapped himself in it, and settled into the chair in the corner of the room. He sat in the dark.

"I have a question," she said.

"What?"

"How did you know I was having a nightmare?"

He laughed softly. "You were yelling loud enough to wake the whole place up."

Eileen felt his eyes upon her as she closed her eyes. As she slipped back into sleep, she wondered that that didn't feel uncomfortable at all.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Eileen woke to bright sunshine the next morning. She was in her bed, alone. The stack of boxes was gone from the door, and the chair in the corner was empty. The shower next door was running.

She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the sun's warmth. She pulled her robe from the end of the bed, opened her door, and let herself in to the room next door.

The blanket from her room lay on the bed. Henry's T-shirt and shorts hung, damp and freshly washed, over the back of a chair by the bathroom. She smiled to herself, picked them up along with his jeans and shirt, and put them in her room, then returned to Henry's room and stretched out on the bed. It hadn't been slept in, she noted.

She flipped on the TV. Nothing good on at this time of day. Figures...

The shower stopped, and she heard the stall door open. After a few minutes, a hand snaked out of the bathroom door and fumbled around the back of the chair.

Eileen waited.

"Good morning, Henry."

"Uh, Eileen..."

Henry's ruffled head poked out of the door.

"You know I don't have anything else."

"Yep. So I've got you captive. For now."

He huffed, and the door closed again. A moment later, he came out with a towel around his waist, and another over his shoulders.

"What gives?"

"Well," she said, "I have an idea."

Henry sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm listening."

"You'd better. You're not getting your clothes back until I'm done."

He made a face. "You're not very nice sometimes."

"From what I saw down there, neither are you."

"Thanks."

"Hey, I mean it in the best way. Nice guys finish last, anyway."

"Thanks...I guess."

"Anyway, here's the plan. This morning, I'm going to take you to get some decent clothes. This is the perfect opportunity to upgrade your wardrobe, since you don't have one any more, and I'm going to make sure that you come out looking good. Lunch will be at Luigi's, where I'm going to have some more of that tortellini. This afternoon, we'll go apartment hunting, and tonight, fishless sushi at the best place in town. We're worth it."

Henry rubbed his hair with the towel.

"You didn't need to take my clothes to sell me on that."

"Yeah, but the look on your face was worth it."

* * *

The tortellini was just as good the second time around. Even better, actually, in that Henry wasn't vacuuming it all up today, which left more for her. 

Eileen took a bite of salad and sneaked another glance at her companion. Henry did clean up nicely. He wore dark blue jeans, an emerald green shirt that matched his eyes and a brown corduroy jacket.

He had been receptive to her advice in the stores they'd visited, letting her pick out things and showing them to her as he tried them on. The bags in his truck contained the better part of a moderate-sized, easy-to-care-for, idiot-proof wardrobe, and she was rather proud of her work.

"After all," she'd said as he showed her the outfit he ended up wearing out of the store, "if you're going to start over again, you might as well do it right."

But there was still a lot to do. They hadn't found any new shoes yet, and he needed a coat...

"This is taking longer than I thought it would," she said.

Henry raised an eyebrow.

"We can take the rest with us."

"What?"

"The food. We can take the rest for later."

"Oh," Eileen said. "No, I didn't mean that. I thought we'd be done with the shopping by now, but I still have to take you to at least two more places. We're not going to have time to look at apartments today."

"That's fine," he said. "We can do that tomorrow. After we find a good place, we can have sushi."

"We can celebrate. Sounds good to me."

Henry speared and chewed. Eileen did the same, and noticed a couple of girls in the corner booth eyeing him and giggling. She looked out the window in thought as she chewed. He'd be quite a catch for any girl, if only she saw past the shyness, she thought. He's a nice, sweet guy who would go to the ends of the earth for you. She knew that first-hand. Nice to look at, too...

"Did you have anywhere in mind?"

Eileen sat up, startled. "Huh?"

"Remember? Apartment hunting tomorrow. Anywhere in particular?"

"Uh...I guess there are a few places. What would you be looking for in an apartment?"

Henry chewed thoughtfully for a minute.

"The best thing about South Ashfield Heights for me was the space in the apartment. That was a decent amount of space for one person."

"If Walter hadn't walled himself up in the back, there would have been even more."

He nodded. "I'd like enough space to set up a little darkroom."

"That makes sense. I liked the space, too. Not too big on the, uh, 'unadvertised features', though."

"Yeah. Could have done without the hidden dead roommate, myself."

They both laughed.

"Hope my next one will be more amenable. And alive."

He smiled at her.

Now it was Eileen's turn to be taken by surprise.

"If you don't mind."

Eileen poked at her tortellini.

"I...uh..." she stammered.

Henry's smile evaporated. He put his fork down.

"Eileen, I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean it like that..." His hand reached for hers, then pulled back. His expression was closed. "Please accept my apologies. We can look for apartments separately, if you want." He moved to slide out of the booth.

"No." She grasped his hand, and pulled him back into his seat. She met his eyes. "I'd love to be your roommate, Henry."

"If you're not comfortable with it..."

"Henry, it's OK," she said. "Really. It would be wonderful."

He looked at her closely. "You don't owe me anything, you know. If you'd rather..."

"I do owe you, but that's nothing to do with this." She squeezed his hand. "I like spending time with you. We get along so well...and you're the only other person who understands what happened to us down there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The mask dropped, and relief showed on his face. She squeezed his hand.

"Henry?"

He leaned forward. "Yes?"

"Are you going to eat the last piece?"

He grinned at her. "It's all yours."

* * *

Dinner that night was...Italian and Chinese. Take-out. She had lo mein, and Henry had garlic shrimp. They split a huge box of fried rice. "Why not?" Henry had said, as they were putting the last of his new clothes into the back of his truck, and Eileen did her best to hide her smile. 

Yes, she thought, why not?

They sat on her floor like kids, watching stand-up comedy and having a grand time. She stole Henry's shrimp when he wasn't looking, and she noticed her box of lo mein getting emptier without her help. The six-pack of good beer they'd picked up at the convenience store across the street from the motel gradually emptied as well. They were both content, well-fed, and a little wobbly.

I haven't had fun like this in so long, she thought. This is way more fun than that party I was supposed to go to would have been. She took another sip of her lager and then snorted part of it after an especially good joke. She sputtered and coughed, and Henry laughed and smacked her lightly between the shoulder blades.

Eventually, the food was gone and the shows were over, and they put the empty boxes and plastic forks into the take-out bag. Henry took it to the dumpster at the back of the building, and returned quickly.

"Um...are you going to be OK tonight?" he asked her.

Eileen shrugged. "I want to say yes, but I don't know. I think so."

"I can stay again if you need."

She shook her head. "No. I appreciate it, I really do," she said, looking him in the eye, "but I can't keep you here forever."

She couldn't read the look that was gone almost before it had begun.

"OK. If you're sure."

"I'm not," she smiled, "but I have to try."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, Eileen slept very soundly that night. Her dreams were strange...

In the dead of night, something pulled her out of her slumber.

Bump...and a groan. Then a cry. Henry's voice. Muffled, but clear enough.

"Cynthia...stop...what...God...no...NO!"

She grabbed her robe and shot out the door. She let herself in with Henry's second key. She had to push hard to get the door open, and she saw that he had put his boxes against it to block it.

Henry lay in bed, twisted in his thin blanket. His T-shirt and shorts were soaked with sweat, and he was flailing around, mumbling something. Eileen locked the door after her, and sat on the edge of the bed. She grasped Henry's wrists and leaned in with her full weight to hold him down.

"Henry, it's me. Wake up. It's just a dream. It's OK. Wake up...please wake up..." She let go of one hand and slapped his cheeks lightly. His brow was knotted, and pain twisted his features.

His muscles loosened. Eventually, he lay still. His breathing slowed, and his face relaxed. Eileen smoothed the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead.

Thank God. He's stopped moving. What was he dreaming about? Something horrible, I'm sure. I guess it would be more surprising if he _didn't_ have nightmares, after what he must have seen. And we did eat a lot of food earlier.

She stared at him unabashedly. So that's what he looks like, really looks like, she thought, feeling a little guilty for looking. No idea why he hides under all that hair...guess it's part of his shyness.

Henry's eyes opened and looked around the room, unfocused. They came to rest on Eileen, and she saw him focus on her face.

"You were dreaming," she said, releasing his wrists.

He slowly pulled himself upright, and leaned back against the wall, head back. "Hard to tell the difference lately," he said, and pulled the blanket back up to his waist over his knees.

"Yeah...it all does seem like a dream now."

"I wish it had been."

"Cynthia...who was she?"

Henry drew in his breath sharply.

"It's not what you think," he said.

"I don't know what to think any more," she replied.

Henry sat forward and ran his hands through his hair.

"You can tell me," she said. "I need to know."

He leaned his arms on his raised knees, then looked at her.

"You remember...in the subway...the woman with the long hair."

Eileen nodded. "The ghost."

"Yes. That was Cynthia, once. I saw her die. I met her my first time through, in the subway...she was just as lost as I was." He laughed shortly. "She offered to 'do me a special favor' if I helped her get out. But I…" He looked up at her, searching for something in her face. "We tried to find the exit, but I kept losing track of her, and so he killed her. Cut her up in that ticket booth. She was the first I saw." His eyes dropped to her collarbone.

"He carved the numbers into her there, on her chest. 16121. Now I know what they meant, what he was trying to do. But then, I didn't know any of it. I had no idea what was going on . Just that this gorgeous, alive woman was dying a bloody death in my arms, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"In the subway the next time, with you...I couldn't believe what she'd become. Then, all the ghosts...they made sense, and I knew that I was going to meet Jasper and Andrew and Richard again, and all the rest, all the ones he'd killed. I didn't want to fight her, remembering what she'd been like before. Putting that sword into her hurt like I was putting it into myself."

Henry raised his eyes to hers again. She sat silently. His hands grasped hers like a lifeline. She moved to sit next to him, and put her arm around him. He leaned his head into her shoulder. After a minute or so, he continued.

"Weird things were happening in my room, all the time I was with you. Every time I'd go back, something else...One time, there was blood dripping from the peephole in the door. I looked through, and I saw myself...what would happen to me if I gave in to him. Knowing that helped me fight him near the end. There was a dead cat in my fridge another time...and blood running from the tap in the sink...and once, there was the shadow of a little boy in the closet.

"Before, when I found you in your apartment...you had those numbers carved into your back. I thought he'd killed you. God, I thought I was too late. That hole in my wall that you saw?" He hesitated, and she could hear the tremor in his voice. "I was able to see you through it, to check on you to make sure that you were OK. But I couldn't stop him from attacking you. After he killed Richard, he told me you were next, but I couldn't do anything to stop him. I was useless...so useless...stuck in my room..."

He stopped, and she put her other arm around him and held him gently.

"He really killed all those other people," she murmured. "What Joseph told us...we were to be the last two."

Henry nodded. "We're the last two alive." His hand moved up and covered hers.

"Thanks to you," Eileen said softly.

"And you." They sat still.

Eventually, Henry's hand dropped, and he relaxed in her arms. She sat holding him as he slept, and looked at his serene face. She thought and remembered for an unknown length of time. Eventually, she slept too.

* * *

She'd been worried, but had all been so easy. Toluca Apartments had had a furnished townhouse unit open up a few days before, and they were anxious to rent it, since the previous tenants had left town suddenly. Henry and Eileen played a young couple to the best of their ability, and they were able to talk the rent down to a very reasonable number. 

So, late that morning, they dumped their boxes into the living room of their new place. One bathroom, two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, small spare room, and a balcony outside each bedroom on the upper floor...it was plenty of space for two people. Henry planned to take part of the spare room for his darkroom, and the rest would be a shared office space.

He seemed to see Eileen's fatigue before she was aware of it herself, and they had a quick lunch before she settled down for a nap.

"It's OK. Go rest. I'll start putting things away," Henry said.

"Sorry. I have to be awake for tonight," she said as she started up the stairs.

"Tonight?...Oh yeah. We can do that some other time if you want."

"You don't get off the hook so easily. I want to celebrate tonight. Anyway," she said, "I've been thinking about miso soup all day."

She walked up to her room, flopped down onto her new bed, and slept soundly.

It was late afternoon when she awoke. She put on her robe and slid open the heavy glass door to the balcony of her bedroom. The view over the lake was stunning. The sun hung low over the enormous expanse of rippling water, and the path along the lake shore gleamed from the light reflected from the gravel. She leaned on the railing and breathed in the fresh air, and smelled the water mixed with the light scent of the pine trees that grew near the townhouse.

What a gorgeous lake, she thought. You can just hear the water lapping against the boat launch from here. I could stay here forever. So still, so peaceful. So far away from the bloody hell she'd been in two days before. That was years ago, in another universe.

She sensed Henry's warmth next to her before she heard him.

"It's beautiful, Henry. Thank you."

"I thought you'd like the view from this room. I like mine. The trees are just amazing on the other side."

They stood for a while looking out over the lake as the sun inched closer to the horizon.

"Mind if I take some pictures of this tomorrow?"

"You can visit whenever you like."

"Thanks. Same for you."

"I don't take pictures."

"You're still welcome."

She leaned into him, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

"I've heard some strange things about Toluca Lake," he said after a while. "When I was in Silent Hill, there were all sorts of stories going around."

"I've heard the one about the boat sinking with all of those people," she said. "And the creepy cult there, too."

"Sunderland told me that his son and daughter-in-law went there and never came back. Nobody knows what happened to them. They never found any trace of them."

Eileen shuddered. "Weird to think that it's just on the other side of the lake. It all looks so peaceful now."

"It looked very different when we were down there, at the orphanage."

"A lot darker. Ominous."

"Oppressive."

"Monstrous."

"Would have made a great picture with better light."

"I can imagine."

"We can visit someday."

"I'd like that."

She moved closer to him, and he wrapped both arms around her from the back. They watched the sun set, until the orange glow disappeared from the surface of the water.

Eileen shivered.

"You were going to take me to dinner," he said into her ear.

"You're going to love it," she said. "Gotta get clean first."

"Yeah," he said. "After going without a good shower for all that time, I really appreciate it now."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Eileen was finishing dressing when she heard Henry's footsteps outside her door.

"Ready?" he asked. It was almost funny to hear him so eager.

"Just a minute," she said. She put on her second boot, picked up her bag, and checked herself over once more. She wore a long dark blue velvet dress with long sleeves, and knee-high black boots. She threw her sweater around her shoulders, opened her door and walked down the stairs.

Henry was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He wore dark gray slacks, a black silky shirt and a dark gray jacket. As she'd found out, he had a minimalist taste in clothing, which suited him well.

Damn, he looks good, she thought.

He moved forward to take her hand. "You look wonderful, Miss Galvin."

"Thank you, Mr. Townshend," she said.

He held his arms out for inspection. "What do you think?"

"Very nice."

"Should be. You picked all of it out for me."

"You wear them well."

"You want to drive?"

"Well, you don't know where we're going, so that would make sense."

He laughed. "We'll probably get better service if we take your car anyway."

* * *

"So, was I wrong?" 

"Mmm-mmm." Henry's mouth was too full of sushi to articulate further.

"Yeah. Best I've had. You wouldn't think that Ashfield would be a good place for sushi, but this is great stuff."

They chewed in silence for a bit.

"Want more?" he asked.

"Not too much more...we'll have bad dreams again."

"Good point." He looked at her for a moment, and a sly smile crossed his face. "Have what you like. I'm buying."

Eileen sat up, and frowned at him. "You can't do that. I'm taking you out, not the other way around."

"I owe it to you for bringing me here in the first place. Please."

She was still frowning. He attempted puppy-dog eyes, and she burst out laughing.

"Well...OK."

"Thanks. Anyway," he said, picking up another piece, "before all this started, I finished up a job for a new tourist brochure that Brahms is putting out. I'm expecting a decent check from it, so this is my treat."

She didn't say anything. It was good to hear that he was doing well at his work. She was going to have to get a job soon to pay her part of the rent...but she had a little emergency money put away for a rainy day, and she was going to be fine for a little while.

She nodded at him. "Nice work with the chopsticks. It takes most people a few tries before they get the hang of it."

"Thanks. My mother showed me how when I was little."

"Neat."

"Her mother was Japanese, and had taught her when she was small, so she thought I should learn too," he said.

"Really? You have a Japanese grandmother?"

"Had. She died when I was a few years old. I don't remember her."

"I'm sorry," Eileen said, and put her hand on his. He didn't flinch.

"Thanks," he said. "It's OK. Mom showed me pictures of her." He smiled. "She was beautiful. Mom told me once that I had her eyes."

"Do you speak Japanese at all?"

He shook his head. "Mom sent me to a few lessons when I was a kid, but it didn't take. I just eat the food."

"So," she said teasingly, "you're a quarter Japanese and you never had veggie sushi before?"

He shook his head.

"Grandma came from a wealthy family…at least they were, before the war," he said. "Mom told me that she never carried money, either her servant did or the stores she went to would have her on account. Things changed for her after the war, but she stayed mostly the same.

"Grandma told Mom that sushi was overpriced in America, that it was peasant food back home, and it was ridiculous to pay that much for it." He twirled a piece in his chopsticks. "Mom never really got over that. So, we almost never went out for sushi, except as a special treat. We had noodles, sometimes, and mochi around New Year's. She wanted me to know that part of my heritage. But never sushi."

He popped the piece into his mouth and chewed with a look of bliss on his face.

"So, for me, this is kind of like soul food."

She laughed.

"Your turn," he said, pointing his chopsticks at her. "When did you learn to use these?"

"My story's more boring than yours," she said. "My parents liked to eat out a lot when I was young, so we had Japanese food every now and then. I learned it faster than they did. Even at the end, Mom still wasn't very good with them."

"The end?"

Eileen sighed, and took a sip of tea.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business," he said. "Forget I asked."

"No, it's OK," she said. "My parents divorced when I was fifteen. So, no more family outings for dinner after that, naturally."

"I'm sorry, Eileen," Henry said. His hand sought hers this time. "Mine split up too, when I was little. Mom brought me up."

"I stayed with my Mom, too, at least for a few years until I went to college."

Henry sat back. "I'm going to change the subject, if you don't mind." He picked up his bowl of rice. "Let me show you rice, like Mom used to make."

Eileen grinned.

Henry motioned the waiter over, and asked for a couple of things with Japanese names that she didn't recognize. The waiter smiled and nodded, and after a minute came back with a small bowl and a medium-sized bowl. He put them on the table and left.

Eileen leaned over the bowls. The smaller one contained a dark greenish slimy substance, and the larger one held…

"What the heck are those?"

"Little, tiny, dried sardines," Henry said, picking up one with his chopsticks. It was just over an inch long. He waggled it at her.

"Eeew. It still has its little eyes."

Henry popped it into his mouth and chewed. "Mmm, salty," he said, grinning.

Eileen grimaced. "You know, normally I'd be a little freaked out right now, but after those damn two-headed babies this doesn't bother me much."

Henry scooped up a large blob of the green substance and spread it over the top of his bowl of rice, then picked up a wad of the little fishes and sprinkled them on top. He picked up a blob of the result, and slid it into his mouth. His expression was beatific.

"That's the stuff," he said as he chewed. He picked up some more rice, and held it out to her. "Here."

Eileen obediently opened her mouth, and he pushed in the rice. It was…salty, yes, but tasted delicious, like the sea. The fish were pleasantly chewy.

"Not bad," she said. He grinned at her. "What I don't get…you'll eat these fish, but you won't eat a slab of salmon on rice?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I had a run-in with a piece of octopus nigiri when I was young and impressionable. These don't seem like fish to me."

Henry chewed for a moment, swallowed, then put down his chopsticks.

"Are you having a good time?"

"What?"

"Are you having a good time?"

"I'm supposed to be taking _you_ out. Isn't that my question?"

"Perhaps, but I can still ask."

Eileen grinned. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun out with a guy."

"Well, I'm not just any guy, am I?"

"Definitely not."

Henry sighed. "I'm not very good at this."

"At what?"

"Just...talking, hanging out, socializing. I've never been comfortable with other people."

"I'm not other people."

"I know. But still."

Eileen picked up a piece of cucumber roll. "You're doing just fine."

"Thanks," Henry said.

"Ever had this much fun with a girl before?"

"No," he said, picking up the chopsticks again. "Actually, I've only asked out one woman. It didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK. It was my fault. I didn't know what to say around her. I got all tongue-tied and clammed up. After a couple of dates, she didn't call back. I guess she thought I was boring."

"I don't think you're boring."

"Thanks. I'm having a pretty good time, actually."

"Well, I'm not just any girl."

"Definitely not."

"When we get back home, could you show me some of your pictures, like you promised? I'd love to see them."

"Of course. Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why do you want to see them? I mean, I don't mind, but I don't understand why you'd want to."

"Well, if you're a good enough photographer that you can make a living at it - "

"A small living."

"Still, a living - if you can make a living at it, then you must be pretty good. And, I'd like to see what you see."

Henry paused, a piece of sushi hanging in midair.

"I'd be honored to show you."

Eileen smiled. "I see you like the inari."

Henry looked at the rice in the fried pouch.

"It's very simple. Just the rice and the wrapping. But the flavor is terrific. Much more than it seems on the surface."

"It's my favorite too."

**

* * *

Author's Note: Henry's grandmother is based on stories my own father told me of his mother. (And yes, I eat my rice in that way.)  
**


	7. Chapter 7

"Where did you take this one?"

"Silent Hill. It's the church in the old part of town. Something about it caught my eye that day."

They were sitting on the couch in their new front room. The contents of Henry's portfolio were spread out over the large coffee table.

"It's lovely. I like the proportions of the spire and the building here, the way it goes up and up and makes you think it never ends."

"See? You have an eye for this."

"Thanks. How about that one?"

"Silent Hill again, later that day. I saw this bicycle just leaning against a parking meter."

"It looks so alone. Makes me wonder where the person who owns the bicycle is, and if he or she is coming back for it."

"That's what I intended! You see it too! Hang on...just a minute...here it is. This is one of my favorites. It's a view of Toluca Lake..." He reached across her to point out a detail on the picture.

Eileen smiled. He was engrossed in his pictures. He was more animated than she'd seen him, and his happiness shone. He's really found his calling. These are wonderful images...he'd take great pictures of anything...she envied him his creativity, his feel for his art.

He was talking.

"...would you mind?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Would you mind if I took your picture on your balcony?"

"Oh," Eileen said. She blushed just a little. "Of course not."

Henry grinned. "It'll be a great picture, I'm sure."

"I wonder..."

"What?" He stopped sorting through the contents of his bag.

"Speaking of tourist brochures...what would Silent Hill put on theirs?"

He laughed. "Good question. I'll have to ask old man Widmark one of these days."

"What could they say? 'Silent Hill. Come lose yourself in our fog.'"

"Literally. 'You'll never want to leave. You may not be able to once our demons get a hold of you.'"

"Heh. 'And once our quaint local cult sucks you in, you'll be here forever.'"

"'Silent Hill. Won't you?'"

They both fell back on the couch, laughing.

Eileen suddenly felt the day catch up to her. She stood up. "If you don't mind, I'm going to head up now."

Henry closed the portfolio. "I'll walk up with you." He followed her up the stairs.

At the top, they stopped at Eileen's door.

"Thanks for a wonderful evening," Eileen said.

"Y_ou_ took _me_ out to dinner. I think that's my line."

"I loved seeing your photographs."

"I loved showing them to you."

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Then, Eileen leaned forward and hugged Henry. After a moment, he returned the embrace.

They clung to each other like two children. Henry's hands rubbed her back, and she felt his soothing warmth through her sweater. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"God, what a couple of days," she said.

Henry laughed. "No kidding. Are you going to steal my clothes again tomorrow morning?"

"Nah. You've got too many for that now. Too much work."

She raised her head, and met his eyes.

"Henry...I..."

He lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her face.

"Sssh," he said. She bit her lip.

"Stay with me, Henry. Please."

Henry's hand stopped. "Are you sure?"

"No, not like that. I...I just don't want to be alone tonight."

Henry nodded. "Neither do I. Go change...I'll be right back."

She changed into her nightshirt and pajama pants, and washed her face before getting into bed. She heard the bathroom door close, then open, then a knock at her door.

Henry wore a T-shirt and shorts, again. He locked the door, and moved toward the small chair in the corner of her room. Eileen shook her head. She reached for his hand, and pulled him to her. He slid into bed beside her and put his arm around her. They sat looking at the moonlight glistening on the lake.

"Thank you, Henry."

"Thank you, Eileen."

"I didn't want to be alone."

"Neither did I."

"I don't know if I can stand it at night."

"Or during the day."

"Or during the day."

She turned her face up to him, and he smiled at her. He leaned down to her, and their lips met. They sank into each other, and her hand came up to run through his thick hair.

Sparks, fireworks, electricity. The Fourth of July. A clap of lightning in a warm summer storm. This is what has been missing, she thought. He pulled her tightly to him, and she relaxed into his embrace. His mouth was warm and his lips were soft. His hair was wiry, but it flowed like silk in her fingers. The thrill of him ran through her entire body.

Eventually, they came up for air. He leaned his head back to breathe, and she rested her head on his shoulder. His hand came up to her cheek, and his thumb wiped away the small tear that ran from her eye.

"Are you OK?" he asked softly.

She smiled up at him. He gathered her into his arms again, and they sat in silence in the moonlight until they gradually drifted off to sleep.

* * *


End file.
